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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590882">Vacation, Anyone?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeejadexo/pseuds/deedeejadexo'>deedeejadexo</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Allergies, Anaphylaxis, Avengers Family, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27590882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/deedeejadexo/pseuds/deedeejadexo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Took you long enough,” Tony calls, pitching his head slightly over his shoulder as he tells his presumed wife to be, eyes never leaving his sketches, “I was about a minute away from grabbing the suit and coming to look for you.”</p><p>“Were you worried about me?” Came the very young, very <i>male</i> familiar Queens accent from behind him.</p><p>Tony visibly jumps, dark eyes popping wide open and mouth dropping in a silent gasp. He whisks around defensively and instinctively, drawing himself up into his full height as he lays his eyes on the familiar red and blue clad form of whose ass he was about to kick.</p><p> </p><p>  <b>Prompt: Tony and Pepper go away together and Peter shows up. Things don't go according to anyone's plan. Did somebody say an allergic anaphylactic shock? Wait, what?</b></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>126</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vacation, Anyone?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Part One</b>
</p><p>Tony peers out of the kitchen window to where Pepper sits perched in her speed boat on the gently swelling water. A solitary figure in a stretch of endless ocean, for a moment Tony indulges himself in imagining she’s content. Relaxed and casual, her concentration on the knot in the bikini she’s working on at the mid of her back, it’s easy to project.</p><p>Their weeks under the sun have been kind to Pepper, lightening her already fire like hair from a fair red to a softer strawberry hew and warming her pallor. She looks at home on the water, Tony notes, and in it too, often stepping off the little boat into the bottomless blue, surfacing with her hair slicked back into light waves around her shoulders.</p><p>It’s been more than bliss. Tony can’t remember the last time he’d gotten away from the responsibilities and torrents life presents and felt happy to idle away hours with nothing more than the sight of his fiancé and maybe crafting the beginnings of a new design or two. The Cuban island they’re sailing their way around the coast of is surrounded by nothing but still, tiffany blue water, sporadically interrupted by boat streams on the horizon, the occasional plane cutting smoke across the cloudless sky.</p><p>The sun hovers directly above them now, a silent surveyor of their little retreat together. Tony steps out of the cabin and onto the deck, watching Pepper turn her head and smile sweetly in acknowledgement.</p><p>Willingly rapt, Tony watches the pristine speed boat come to a stop beside their yacht and his love emerge from the water like a creature of myth, creamy waves clinging at her ankles as she climbs up the sleek ladder and finally onto the deck. She gleams with it, body and face running, dappling the deck with tracks and puddles. She comes to meet him, and Tony hands her a towel at the back door to their quarters.</p><p>“Mind doing me a favour?”</p><p>“Sure,” Pepper dabs at her face with the towel after a murmur of thanks, unfastening her bikini top from the clasped knot she’d been fiddling with and detaching the straps at the front as she pads through to the bedroom, it dropping to the floor behind her. Unconcerned with the concept of propriety, Tony watches openly, tongue touching the bow of his upper lip, brown eyes greedily taking his fill as they ran down the curves of her body.</p><p>“Wanna dive back in, then immediately climb back out so I can commit all this imagery to memory?” He asks, serious tone and no hint of sarcasm or humor.</p><p>Pepper glances at him over her shoulder as she strips off her wet bikini bottoms, and Tony knows from the cant of her head and the angle of her grin that she’s under no illusions about what this little show is doing to him.</p><p>“What’s for lunch?” She asks her fiancé, as he moves determinedly to stand in front of her, arms reaching out to protectively wrap around her midsection, palms coming to rest upon her slim waist, pupils dilating around mischievous brown coloring as he pulls her still drying delicate skin against his dry and solid, cloth covered body.</p><p>“Unfortunately, we’re all out of lunch,”</p><p>Pepper opens her mouth to reply, but as per usual, Tony cuts in and continues before she can utter any form of response.</p><p>“I know, it’s a shame.” He rebutted. “However, luckily for us both, a tasty, albeit sexy, snack seems to have just now appeared on the menu.”</p><p>Pepper can’t help the grin that spreads across her cheeks, despite the eye roll that naturally came with it. She brings her hand up to cup the engineers face tenderly, leaning into his embrace.</p><p>“Out of lunch, you say?” She repeats, then does her best impression of what she assumes to be a sexy under-the-batting-lashes look as she leans forward to whisper, lips a mere inch away from Tony’s, “I’d better go and get something to eat for my man.”</p><p>“There’s something for me eat right here,” Tony retorts cheekily.</p><p>“Food, Tony.” Pepper laughs, pushing away gently from his grasp, “Actual food. Nutrition, something of substance. To stop you from, you know, actually withering away and dying.” And Tony thinks to himself after a fluttering pang in his chest that the blush she’s sporting only makes him fall in love with her more.</p><p>“I swear, you couldn’t survive one day without me.”</p><p>Tony grabs her retreating hand, pulls her back to him and raises her palm in his to his lips, kisses the ring he’d not long ago put on her finger.</p><p>His eyes shine when they meet hers in the sun and Pepper stops herself from gasping her next breath for what she sees. Honest and truth, not something Tony often allows himself to project. Pepper can count on one hand the amount of times she’d seen the man show his true emotion. Though better he was getting as of late, the more he came to trust her and in turn, be trusted.</p><p>Reflected in his eyes were seemingly the deepest fears and hopes his soul and heart had to offer her. Fear of losing her, being rejected, letting her down, all written clear as the midday summer sky across his face. He beseechingly implored his meaning; his words being carried away with the slight breeze as he nervously fiddled with her nimble fingers.</p><p>“Hopefully, I’ll never have to, ever again.”</p><p>Releasing a stuttered breath and at a loss of what to say, utterly caught off guard by Tony’s rush of humility, Pepper closes the gap between them, pouring her gratitude, all of her love into their shared kiss, feeling the moment Tony’s bodily tension dissipated and he visibly relaxed.</p><p>Pulling back moderately to view his face, she took a deep tranquil breath before slipping her lips into a small smirk, tapping on his chest. “We can finish this off later, but for right now, I think I should at least try to find some clothes to put on and head to the shore to find us some food.”</p><p>“I’ll come with you.” Tony states, already releasing to instead prepare the speed boat anchored beside them.</p><p>“Easy tiger,” Pepper laughs, neatly folding her arms across and underneath her soft round breasts, sun reflecting off her skin like silk, “why don’t you stay here, find us a movie to watch or something, maybe work on those schematic and nanotech plans you promised me you’d leave back at home that you keep fiddling with when you think I’m not looking.”</p><p>Tony balked, eyes twitching and meeting her challenging ones, his lips convulsing ever so slightly in a frown with the lack of something to say for once, being caught red handed only a fair few times.</p><p>“I uh… Could’a sworn I was better at hiding that.” He scratched the back of his head, ruffling the callused hair he found there.</p><p>“Mhmm.” Pepper intones, smile still shining bright as she makes her way in a teasing strut past him and through the door into their bedroom.</p><p>Tony busies himself with preparing the miniature boat, tidying it up a bit and checking the fuel before he starts the motor.</p><p>Pepper walks out moments later, silky sun dress hanging invitingly from her shoulders, straw summer hat atop her rose head and small green handbag slung over her left shoulder.</p><p>With Tony’s help, she climbs back into the little vessel to make the short distance to the Miami shoreline.</p><p>“Thanks, honey.” She settles herself and readies the boat, her balance immaculate. “Oh, Tony, before I go?”</p><p>“Yeah?” He queried.</p><p>“Something keeps beeping in the bedroom and it’s been driving me crazy. I can’t find out what it is. Mind taking a look?”</p><p>“No problemo.” Tony dismisses distractedly, watching as Pepper speeds away on the boat along the soft waves, already thinking about the last finishing touches to the designs regarding his nanosuits biometric sensors that he could devote the next solid few hours to.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part Two</b>
</p><p>It was nearing evening; Tony is waiting for Pepper on the decks bow. It’s a beautiful sight, the sky still aflame with the setting sun and the air scented with salt and sand. Tony stands to switch a few of the outdoor lights on before he sits back down, layouts and blueprints for new and reusable energy saving, nanotech infused vibranium lined shield for his suit cradled in his lap as he listens to sea birds calling; the distant cough of an approaching boats motor.</p><p>Spider-Man is a black shadow at the end of the stern, gliding across a pool of liquid fire as the sun sinks down beyond the waves. The engine cuts, and he climbs stealthily out of the boat and onto the yacht.</p><p>“Took you long enough,” Tony calls, pitching his head slightly over his shoulder as he tells his presumed wife to be, eyes never leaving his sketches, “I was about a minuet away from grabbing the suit and coming to look for you.”</p><p>“Were you worried about me?” Came the very young, very <i>male</i> familiar Queens accent from behind him.</p><p>Tony visibly jumps, dark eyes popping wide open and mouth dropping in a silent gasp. He whisks around defensively and instinctively, drawing himself up into his full height as he lays his eyes on the familiar red and blue clad form of whose ass he was about to kick.</p><p>Tony watches the kid silently for a beat of a second, sizing him apprehensively and more than a little confused, making no effort to hide his baffled state.</p><p>“H-hey Mister Stark.” Spider-Man begins nervously, fabric covered hand coming to rub the back of his red webbed suited masked neck, nerves escaping him in less time than it took him to psych up.</p><p>“So, I’m guessing you’re not in any danger or anything, then.”</p><p>“<i>Danger?</i>” Stark splutters in repetition, still all the more lost.</p><p>The whites of Spider-Man’s masked eyes squint a little analytically and critically, surveying the man in front of him, his voice accusatory in the backhand of a whine.</p><p>“You’re distress signal,” the kid elaborates unhelpfully.</p><p>Tony steps forwards towards him, standing now only a few feet away. The initial shock of seeing him so unexpectedly wearing off as irritation soon begins to take its place.</p><p>“Kid, what the hell are you talking about, what are you doing here?”</p><p>Spider-Man shakes his head minutely, rapid fire speech erupting from the expressionless mask in nervous haste. “There was a distress call, coming from your suit and this location? I told Agent Romanoff that seeing as I was the closet to you, I’ll check it out, see what’s happening and if you’re ok, Mister Stark.”</p><p>He quickly takes a breath, following up his explanation with a question of his own, turning his head and assessing the large space of the yacht behind them, as if waiting for signs of danger to make themselves known. “Are you? Ok, I mean?”</p><p>“The beeping.” Tony all but whispers, ignoring the kids question, his furrowed brow and expression neutralising. In his haste to get started on finishing up his designs, he’d completely forgotten about the beeping noise Pepper had asked him to investigate. It now makes perfect sense…</p><p>“Huh?” Peter interrupts.</p><p>Tony reaches for his Stark phone in his shorts pocket, raising it to eye level, the screen coming to life and allowing him to read the many missed calls from Avengers HQ, Romanoff, Fury and Coulson he’d missed only hours ago, the many voicemails left undetected which no doubt revealed the concern for his safety. </p><p>Fealing only slightly the hint of remorse and guilt, Tony quickly opens his private app controlling said suit which was safely tucked away in one of his folded faux designed briefcases currently sending out a false distress call. He finds the correct page and disables the error with a flick of his thumb, then closes the app and makes his way to his messages, ignoring the plethora of others in his inbox to send only Natasha a quick text relaying his very much live pulse.</p><p>
  <i>Hey Red, Blonde, or whatever hair color you’re currently sporting in a bid to win Russia’s next top model</i>
</p><p>Not five seconds goes by before he sees his message has been received, read, and a reply was quickly forthcoming.</p><p>
  <i>Stark. Update, status?</i>
</p><p>Tony rolls his eyes, not surprised his attempt at humor in a potential life or death situation had flown over the agent’s head. </p><p>
  <i>All good in the hood. Well, deck. Still on vacay. Error in suits coding, distress call false alarm. Has been deactivated. Will use back up if needed until future notice</i>
</p><p>A short second later he has his second reply.</p><p>
  <i>Parker?</i>
</p><p>Tony glances up from his cell phone to throw a glance at the young man before him, eyes assessing. Kid has removed his mask, stance adopting an awkwardness as the brown hair across his forehead sways with the salty sea breeze. He meets the engineers gaze head on, brave, determined, yet confusion clearly written on his features as he nervously bites at his lower lip.</p><p>Tony feels a quirk tugging at his own lips, gaze falling back to his screen as he types his response.</p><p>
  <i>With me. Safe.</i>
</p><p>He pockets his cell without bothering to wait for another response and instead focusses all his attention on the teenager before him. Peters brows rises, expectedly waiting for instruction or explanation.</p><p>“Well, as you can see, I’m alive and well, Pipsqueak,” Tony addresses, gesturing to himself with a lazy wave of his hand.</p><p>Peter nods absentmindedly, once again surveying the boat behind them as if to be sure, his mask idly hanging from his hand by his side.</p><p>“Good. That’s – that’s really good Mister Stark,” the teen visibly relaxes, free hand raising to his chest where he spreads the palm against the small black spider situated there. He speaks on a relieved exhale, quickly and apprehensively, “I was worried you were in trouble or something! Happy called me to see if I’d heard from you because they can’t reach you and maybe seeing as I was apparently nearby they thought I’d know if you were in trouble and I was like, ‘no, but he’s probably fine because you don’t go anywhere without a suit and you can handle yourself because you’re super cool’, but then I was talking to Ned, and he was like, ‘why would they ask you that? Maybe Tony’s in trouble’, so then it got me thinking, that maybe you actually were and that’s why nobody can get hold of you.”</p><p>Peter takes a quick breath and Tony feels his head shake slightly without his deliberate consent, sure his incomprehension was written on his face as clear as the fading light.</p><p>“So that’s when I got Karen to get hold of Agent Romanoff because Happy wouldn’t answer when I called him back and she said that I should check it out and report back to her if something had happened and so I threw the suit on, got Karen to give me the coordinates and left as quick as I could to—"</p><p>“All right!” Tony barks loud enough to cut in, having heard enough, understandable irritation masking his voice before he consciously has to drop it, “All right, kid, I think I got it.”</p><p>“Right,” Peter winces, glancing away, both hands now fiddling with his mask in front of him.</p><p>Tony watches the youngster, guilt hitting him as immediate as the annoyance flees. It wasn’t the kids fault he got dragged out here to Starks vacation get away. He probably wanted to be here in this situation less than he did. Well actually, with how eager Peter seemed to have jumped at the chance of ‘rescuing’ him, Tony doubted that. It was his own fault, really. And the faulty button in his suits system. <i>It was quite sweet, Peter coming all this way for him, actually</i>, Tony mused.</p><p>With a small grin pulling at the crease of his lips, Stark steps forward and grasps Parkers fabric clad shoulder.</p><p>“Thanks for coming and checkin’ on me, Pete,” he nods appreciatively, watching how Peter reciprocates, keeping his cool and simply nodding back, small smile gracing his face.</p><p>With peace restored, Tony drops his hand and instead traces his beard with his thumb and forefinger, turning back to his abandoned chair and the designs strewed upon it.</p><p>“How’d you get here, anyway?” He queries, mildly interested, pulling his papers and gadgets together, folding them up and putting them away.</p><p>“Boat, Mister Stark.”</p><p>Tony scoffs a sarcastic laugh, “No, Stowaway, not <i>here</i> on the boat here. <i>Here</i>, in Miami. Haven’t you got like, homework and classes to attend in the city as well as stolen ice creams to give back to misfortunate toddlers?”</p><p>“Here on a science decathlon trip,” Peter announces proudly, amused at the ribbing.</p><p>Stark barely refrains from rolling his eyes and groaning. “Of course you are,” he mutters under his breath before turning back to face his ward. “I’m just gonna go ahead and pretend you didn’t just say that.”</p><p>Peter frowns but doesn’t say anything more. Tony begins walking towards the wide plain glass entrance that leads to the inside of the yacht, arms full and eyes bright. He stops just shy of opening the door though, turning his head to the side to shout back behind him. “You comin’ then, Spider-Ling, or what?”</p><p>The kid beams and strides forward – he doesn’t need to be told twice.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part Three</b>
</p><p>It was now getting dark. No sign yet of Pepper. Tony had gone straight to his room when entering the yacht, dumped his files and gadgets on the desk in the corner beside Peppers vanity and strode back out to the living space to find Peter had dropped and sank himself into the sofa cushions, relaxed and comfortable as ever. <i>Heh, kid almost looks at home here</i>, Tony mused. </p><p>Stepping up to the sofa, he pulls his cell from his pocket and checks his messages properly, finding with privately thankful relief, a few missed texts from Pepper he’d not seen earlier. </p><p>
  <i>14:17<br/>
I met an old college gal friend in town and we went for coffee, so will be back a bit later, hope you don’t mind x</i>
</p><p>
  <i>15:35<br/>
She needs to go shopping too! We’re just doing it now x</i>
</p><p>
  <i>15: 57<br/>
Do you want pork or lamb tonight? x</i>
</p><p>
  <i>16:18<br/>
Got pork in the end. Hope you’re not working too hard! x</i>
</p><p>Tony feels his eyes soften as he reads the texts and readies his reply. He quickly glances at the time display in the corner, feeling his brow rise at discovering it was now a quarter after seven.</p><p>
  <i>Typical me, got caught up as usual. It’s later than I thought Pep, you alright, heading back soon?</i>
</p><p>Pressing send and swiping to the homepage, Tony lowers his cell and sees Peter adjust his position on the couch in his peripheral vision. Peeking his way under the guise of checking his cells screen again, he notices the kid’s brown eyes taking in the fancy and expensive décor admiringly and watches as he drops his arms casually across the back of the sofa. He feels a smirk reach his cheeks when he spots the teenagers eyelids droop before the kid appears to catch himself and fidget again in his seat. He looks beat.</p><p>Mind decided, though not necessarily sure how Pepper would feel about his self-approved impulsive decision, the engineer opens his messaging app again and texts Natasha.</p><p>
  <i>Getting late – kid will stay the night w/ us. Let Aunt Hottie know</i>
</p><p>A vibration and incoming text alert from Pepper diverts his attention after he hit send and he swipes to her message to read it.</p><p>
  <i>I’m not surprised in the slightest. Put your toys away so we can make room for some of mine ;) will be heading back soon x</i>
</p><p>Hiding his delighted laugh behind a cough so as not to attract suspicion in front of minors, Tony watches as Peter startles, having started to nod off again. The kid grins up at him, opening his mouth to speak.</p><p>Tony steps again around the sofa and doesn’t give him the opportunity. “Tired, Parker? Honestly, kids these days.”</p><p>Peter simply shrugs, his smile growing lazy the more relaxed he feels.</p><p>“It’s been a really long day, Mister Stark. I got up at five this morning,”</p><p>Peter’s face shows the audacity of the implications he feels about that statement, as though that justified everything and explained his exhaustion.</p><p>Tony simply raises a brow questioningly, amusement showing in his dark eyes.</p><p>“Five. In the <i>morning</i>,” he goes on elaboratively, traumatically. “Like, how do people <i>do</i> that? I didn’t know people could function that early!”</p><p>Stark rolls his eyes fondly, exasperated, and begins to make his way to the other side of the yacht again, heading for the bedrooms.</p><p>He sighs, entertaining the kids humor. “Yeah, it’s a real mystery.”</p><p>Conversationally, he spins on his heels and faces the young man. “You know, it’s getting late and pretty dark out there.”</p><p>Peter nods solemnly, understanding immediately that he’s overstayed his welcome and tries to stand.</p><p>“No problem, Sir – I’ll just get outta your hair. I can take the boat back to—”</p><p>“Ah!” Tony cuts in briskly, holding his palm up in a silencing gesture. “Best just to cram it, Poindexter, and follow me, before I change my mind…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part Four</b>
</p><p>“Left some clothes that might fit you on the bed, Squirt,” Tony shares, nodding to the room behind him that he’d just emerged from. Peter doesn’t move, anxiously looking thankful but still apprehensive. Tony frowns at the unfamiliar presentation.</p><p>“I’m not mad you’re here, if that’s what you’re thinking. Quite the opposite.”</p><p>A small smile graces the younger man’s lips, hopeful.</p><p>To prevent any awkwardness, or any <i>more</i> awkwardness, Tony presses on.</p><p>“Go shower, kiddo, freshen up. Get outta that suit I built you. As much as I love seeing my own designs, I’m on vacation and that just makes me think something’s about to jump out and attack us. Help yourself to soap or shower gel, whatever takes your liking.”</p><p>“Cool, yeah. I’ll do that now. Thanks, Sir.”</p><p>He watches him go with another small smile, not bothering to correct the kid after calling him ‘Sir’ this time and listening to the opening of drawers and compartments, and finally running water.</p><p>He goes to the fridge and grabs himself a beer, hesitates and shrugs before grabbing a soda he thinks Parker would like and heads back outside to his abandoned ‘work station’, grabbing some untouched tech designs in the drawer in the desk beside the door. </p><p>After his shower, Peter comes back onto the deck outside in the borrowed shorts Tony had left for him that’re slightly too long for him and a faded graphic Metallica rock t-shirt, also a size or two bigger than his slighter frame will fit. He greets Tony with a smile and, to the man’s surprise, a warm step in his bounce.</p><p>“Can I sit here, Sir?” He asks.</p><p>Recovering only enough to nod, Tony mutters a quick, “don’t call me ‘sir’,” this time because dammnit, nothing grates on his nerves more, and draws to the side of the bench upon the deck, watching the water as Peter lowers himself down carefully.</p><p>After taking a sip of his beer, Tony leans forward to set the glass bottle down and retrieves several battered and rumpled folded papers from the folder in front of him, pulling them into his lap as he begins to open them.</p><p>“What’re you working on?” The teenager enquires, wanting to encourage him.</p><p>“Trying to improve the exocystems on my suits,” Stark mutters back absently.</p><p>“Why, what’s wrong with them?” Parker questions, reaching for the soda he figures Tony must’ve left for him beside the bench.</p><p>“Well, since I can now add the occasional space travel to my list of ever growing things-I-have-to-do-to-help-save-the-world-in-order-to-sleep-well-at-night, I figured I may as well sort and update my suits integral bio systems because currently, it makes me feel like I’m playing a constant game of tug of war when the atmospheric pressure changes.”</p><p>“Right,” Peter nods, brow slightly furrowing as he surveys the many scans on the parchments before him, understanding more than he thought he would.</p><p>Tony points towards one of the more complex of the sheets. “If I alter and then reconnect the cisco, have it reconfigure the shell metals, I could use the extra titanium alloy from the seraphim tactical satellite that I saved for a rainy day. That should ensure maximum fuselage integrity while maintaining the power to weight ratio that’s, frankly, gone to shit in a handbasket for some reason.” Tony recounts educatory, satisfied with the kids’ genuine interest as his eyes scan what he’s being showed and not in a confused way.</p><p>“So,” the kid begins, head tilting off centre as he considers confidently, “basically, you wanna use lighter metals so you won’t turn into an ice cube if you’re exposed to a really thin atmosphere for any prolonged amount of time.”</p><p>A smirk begins to grace the engineer’s lips, his bearded cheeks raising smugly with pride even whilst he shrugged, trying to go for appearing none plussed. </p><p>“Basically.” He agrees. “Hey, you know, you’re not bad at this, kid.”</p><p>Peter beams with delight at the compliment, his chest puffing out in the support boost.</p><p>“You’ll figure it out, Mister Stark,” Peter assures. “And when you do, it’ll be so awesome.”</p><p>“Anything I make, it usually is, kid.” Tony proclaims rather cockily with an obvious air of sass and hilarity, like anyone would expect anything less.</p><p>“Yeah, no fooling.” He says before he opens the can with a hiss and sips his own drink, orange soda it turns out. An insect buzzes idly nearby. Tony returns to his documents, beer in one hand, pencil in the other as he starts to scribble something down upon it.</p><p>“Are you alone out here?” Peter asks conversationally when the hum of the evening has overtaken their comfortable silence. Tony doesn’t glance up from his work, but Peter can tell the man was listening. “Is Pepper here with you? I haven’t seen her around.”</p><p>Putting his utensils and tools down, Tony finally looks back at the kid. “She’s gone back to shore to get some supplies, food, that sort of thing. Met a friend, went shopping with her. Should be back soon.”</p><p>“She won’t mind that I’m here, will she?” Peter asks nervously, teeth gnawing at his bottom lip a little. </p><p>“Course not. Why would she?”</p><p>Peter observes the man’s face which pulls into amused confusion, hidden slightly by growing shadow.</p><p>“I just… Well, I wouldn’t blame her if she was, you know? You don’t go away on vacation with your other half and expect some kid to just show up midway through.”</p><p>“<i>Some kid</i>,” Stark repeats, appalled at the self-loathing he detects in the kids tone. “She loves you,” he assures positively, “Hell, she thinks you’re a good influence on me. Says it’s good practice for if or when we ever have ki—” he breaks off abruptly, realising a second too late that he may be revealing a little more than he’d ever like to admit with present company.</p><p>But the kid simply shrugs and hastens to add, “But what about you, Mister Stark? I don’t want to bother you if I don’t have to, I don’t want to intru—” he cuts off, slapping a hand over his neck, leaning forward to set down his soda can. His face goes tight, a hitched breath escaping him. Perplexed for a moment, Tony drops his papers to the ground by his feet, watching Peter lift his hand away, the swatted wasp falling onto the floor.</p><p>“It stung you?”</p><p>The younger brunette nods, cringing. He screws his face up a minute, rubbing over the mark. “Ouch, damn, that hurt. I’m okay. Gees.”</p><p>Tony doesn’t reproach him, but he does frown, moving to examine the side of his throat.</p><p>“No sting left in it,” he says.</p><p>Peter gives him a shaky smile, cheeks a bit pink – with embarrassment, perhaps. Tony eyes the side of Peter’s neck some more, watching with almost rapt attention as he witnesses the skin heal and regenerate at a too-fast-to-be-human rapid cellular rate. Gone is the red and rigid welling, replaced with fresh baby smooth, brand new skin. Tony blinks curiously and turns his gaze back to his beer.</p><p>“Gotta get a sample of your blood again when we get back to the city, Pete. It’s a scientists wet dream.”</p><p>When he hears no witty reply or comeback, Tony ridicules and pledges. “Trust me, when you hit college, that little advanced bio-ability you have going on there will come in handy and save you a lot of hangovers when you’re coming in really early and about to miss a lecture.”</p><p>He waits a beat and after hearing nothing still from the younger man, Tony finally turns his gaze to the teens face.</p><p>What he sees holts his beer halfway to his lips.</p><p>Peter takes in a breath that’s a little too like a whistle for Tony’s liking, shifting his chin like he’s trying to clear his throat.</p><p>“Kid…” Tony starts, apprehensively. Peter’s own face grows concerned, his wide brown eyes turning to land on the engineer.</p><p>“M’fine, it’s–” he makes an uncomfortable choking noise, and Tony reaches for him now.</p><p>“Hey, Parker. Open your mouth. Breathe, kid.”</p><p>He does. His tongue is visibly swelling, the glands in his jaw becoming prominent. Stark feels his heart drop into his stomach as he recognises the signs of anaphylaxis and immediately jumps up and hares into the yacht’s kitchen, all but knocking over his beer as he goes, skidding on the marble floor where his heel is wet. He finds the EpiPen in his medivac’s kit in more time than he’d like, and when he gets back to his ward, he’s going an alarming shade of purple, strangely pale around the eyes.</p><p>“Pete, hey, you’re having an allergic reaction. God knows how with your super engineered metabolism. Woah, hey, okay – don’t try to breathe yet, hold on.” And with that, he shoves the too big for his size shorts up to expose the meat of his thigh without ceremony and delivers the EpiPen shot, holding it there, working it into the muscle as gently and patiently as he can. Peter grips his arms in sheer blind panic, eyes going bloodshot.</p><p>“It’s ok,” Tony almost immediately eases, almost whispers, his tone flat and his face and features growing stoic. With his own adrenaline flowing, he feels the familiar high he usually receives in battle start to run through his limbs.</p><p>Avoiding the kids vulnerable sporadic hazed look of loyal trust bouncing around searchingly, Tony continues softly, edging and trying for reassuring and comforting. “It’ll take a minute.”</p><p>It was if the kid hadn’t heard him, his eyes rolling around back and forth sluggishly and as wide as saucers. Stark felt the grimace on his face before he consciously snapped into further action.</p><p>“Peter, look at me, listen to my voice and stay with me,” Tony murmurs. Peter’s grip tightens on the man’s forearms and forces a hiss of discomfort from lips, nothing wrong with the kids super enhanced strength, that’s for sure.</p><p>Ignoring the pain, he gets his hand on the kids shoulder in return and holds on, still releasing the EpiPen with his thumb of his other hand. The seconds feel like hours. Peter clenches his eyes shut then, the veins in his forehead and throat standing out. The mark on his neck has all but disappeared, however there’s a strange tracking rash beneath it, red and flush, the flesh around it staring to discolor ever so slightly, like it’s battling itself to the surface again. Peter’s facial expressions change from excruciating to fairly eased, then back to increasingly pain filled. Finally, his struggling yields a thin, choking breath, and Tony sighs. It’s not over, but it’s the first hurdle cleared.</p><p>“Good, good. Small breaths, don’t panic, you’re all right, Squirt.”</p><p>He’s taking great, wheezing breaths now, eyes running, and his chest racked with cough reflexes. Tony waits for him to calm down, rubbing his hands over his shoulders, heart touched at the way the boy leans into it, seeking the comfort and accepting what he’s struggling to offer.</p><p>“Listen, kid, we have to get more antihistamines into you, or this is gonna be like riding a helluva roller coaster on Groundhog Day. Can you walk?”</p><p>“Mmm, think so,” Peter breathes. He lets Tony haul an arm over his shoulder, but when he stands, his knees buckle.</p><p><i>Stupid,</i> Tony thinks to himself, <i>to pull him up</i>. He can’t leave him out here though.</p><p>“S—s’ry Ton—"</p><p>“Shh,” the man breathes, taking a knee and guiding the kid downwards for a few seconds as the genius’ mind works in override rapid fire.</p><p>“All right – it’s ok, I gotcha.” Tony loops an arm under his legs then and decidedly – not without a little difficulty, the kid is all muscle after all – scoops him into his arms.</p><p>Peter doesn’t really react to that other than wince slightly at the jostled movement.</p><p>And when he makes it to his bedroom and lays the kid on the bed, Tony goes back to his medical supplies bag, rummaging out supplies and periodically flicking his gaze to the ill child in his care. He’s surprised to see the teenager sit himself up with renewed strength, his view of the kids neck perplexing him further, however. <i>What the hell?</i> The rash and sting site that was receding, and the redness and swelling previously there was now returning. Was the kids enhanced cellular structure struggling to fight the allergic reaction? Either his body wasn’t as regenerative as Tony was previously led to believe, or the kid was simple seriously allergic to what stung him that it overrode his brilliant biochemistry. Either that or whatever happened to him when he got bit by that scientifically engineered arachnid has made him super sensitive to any and all other bites and stings?</p><p>His mind running a mile a minute, Tony stored and labelled it food for thought for a later date and glanced again in Peter’s direction. He’s expecting the moment when the boys head lags, and he catches it before he hits the headboard, easing him back, fingers tracking his pulse. It’s low, thready. Hypotension, from the sudden move into standing, perhaps? The panic that had receded on the deck only moments ago starting to trickle back into his chest.</p><p>“Parker,” he says it clearly, authoritatively, giving his shoulders a gentle shake. No response, the kids face remained lack of expression and his eyes remained closed. “Peter.” Again, nothing. He’s going pale now.</p><p>Without delay, Tony strips his own overgrown borrowed clothes off the kid’s body save the underwear, pulls the sheets up over him and sets up an IV of fluids (Goddamnit, where was Banner when you needed him? He was always better at this medical crap than he was, despite not being <i>that</i> kind of doctor). With his body in shock, it’s fairly easy to find a vein. Satisfied that it’s set up safely and to the best of his own limited ability, he silently thanks that Romanoff insisted they all learn basic first aid and a few lifesaving procedures regarding medical equipment and its uses.</p><p>He uses a second EpiPen in Peter’s other thigh, listening as his breaths come easier. The sting around his throat is starting to recede again now, an ugly lump a couple of inches beneath his ear beginning to shrink. Tony looks at it as he thinks, following the instructions he found that follow up the EpiPen and using a syringe to inject chlorphenamine maleate into the IV tube before he takes stock of the kid’s pulse – still very slow – and breathing – reedy. Tony doesn’t have oxygen on the boat, nor an intubator. He doesn’t have anything except the essentials of an emergency kit, and his own useless goddamn hands.</p><p>He looks at Peter’s young and still face and takes a shaking breath. All the ferocity, experience and stubborn determination in him couldn’t prepare him for how helpless he feels in this exact moment. He could radio or call for assistance, set a fresh distress to Pep, Shield or the town closest to them, he could get Peter to a hospital – and then what? Wait for the kid to die because he hadn’t acted quicker or quick enough? All because he’s a terrible guardian, mentor and friend?</p><p>No. Peter is stabilising. His body is healing. Trying with all its might to super speedily regenerate healthy cells and recover. He’ll wait, and if he stops breathing, he’ll resuscitate. If he dies… He won’t die.</p><p>Thoughts solidifying, Tony moves around to the other side of the bed, turning Peter carefully onto his side to make sure his airway is as unobstructed as possible while the last of the swelling goes down and the last of the redness diminishes. With his hand on the inside of his wrist, he slips onto the bed beside him and counts his pulse, slow at first and then steadily climbing.</p><p>He gives Peter more antihistamine; chases with hydrocortisone and some strong painkillers to take the edge off. He spends a few long hours watching him, hand moving slowly up and down his side, pausing every now and then to feel the rise and fall of his lungs under his palm. The night is long and tense, and Tony finds himself in a pattern of checks, treatments, and then jerking awake at the faintest hint of movement from the teenager. For the most part, he’s still. Tony fears the aching silence his absence leaves behind. He’s never seen the kid so still, so quiet.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part Five</b>
</p><p>Around dawn, Peter finally stirs. Tony looks at him from his side of the bed, chest lurching as Peter’s eyes slowly open, pale as the foaming waves outside. He looks at Tony, and then his own cannulated arm.</p><p>“Oh, man,” he croaks.</p><p>Tony holds his emotion back and focusses his brain on the small form in front of him. “Did you know you were allergic to wasp venom, Spidey? I mean, go look at you, conforming so extremely to insect stereotypes.”</p><p>He expects a laugh or small sign or a snigger, at the very least, a roll of brown eyes. But instead gets only a slow shake of his head and wide brown eyes with dilated drug eased pupils reflected back at him.</p><p>He changes tact. “How you feelin’, kid?”</p><p>“Like there are thorns in me.” Peter replies ponderingly, voice a bit spaced. </p><p>“That might have been the multiple times I’ve stabbed you with EpiPen’s, I’m afraid, Young Buck.”</p><p>“Not the worst thing that’s been stuck in me.”</p><p>There he is.</p><p>“Not the best either, I’m sure. I mean, really, venom is what puts a stop to the amazing Spider-Man?”</p><p>“Ha-ha. <i>Ouch.</i> My throat is killing me, Mister Stark.”</p><p>“It’s normal. Do you feel sick?”</p><p>“Yeah, like, big time.”</p><p>“Ok.” He runs a tired palm down his face, then running his fingers around the bristles of his beard. “Ok, I’m going to sit you up, very slowly, and you’re going to try to eat something. We don’t have much; Pepper hasn’t been back yet with the groceries. All right, ya ready?”</p><p>“Pepper’s been out all night? She alright?” He squawked, voice rough, scratching.</p><p>“Yeah, she’s good, was pretty late so she stayed at her pals. Now, food – will help bring your blood pressure back up. Wanna try give you some water, too.”</p><p>Slowly, he eases Peter up against the pillows; checks his blood pressure and is pleased to see it nearly normal. Yeah, accelerated metabolism and super-blood is coming back online.</p><p>“Let me go and make ya something,” Tony mutters awkwardly, not really sure what he should do with himself now Peter has woken and looking at him expectedly. He feels the hint of embarrassment and fear at feeling and showing such strong emotion in front of the kid.</p><p>“It’s cool, I’m not really hungry. ‘Sides, I’m not sure your boat could take you cooking on top of everything else. I mean, do you even know where the kitchen is?”</p><p>Tony exhales an amused guffaw, turning a raised brow to the teenager. “Just because you’re sick and as high as Point Break when he climbs the Chrysler building, don’t think I won’t kick your ass off’a this thing and happily watch you drown.”</p><p>“After all the hard work you did in creating your own little protégé?” Peter grins tiredly and a little dopily, looking up at the philanthropist from buried beneath his little cocoon. “Nah, I don’t buy it.”</p><p>Tony turns without a word and heads back towards the bedroom door leading to the hallway. He hesitates in the doorway and spins around in a pivot. He questions daringly, mock serious.</p><p>“<i>Protégé?</i>”</p><p>A succinct and pensively dreary nod replies. “Totally. We’re equals.”</p><p>“Yeah? How’d you figure that one?”</p><p>“Look who came out all this way to save you, Mister Stark. I gave up building the Lego Millennium Falcon with Ned and a date with MJ to come here and save you. Not that I didn’t want to! But, like, totally huge stakes there that I gave up, Sir.”</p><p>“Ok—storing that away for ridicule later—” Tony laughs, “how do you think that worked out for you, kid? Once again, I’m saving <i>your</i> ass. I’d say you’re <i>sidekick</i> here, at very best.”</p><p>“Nuh-uh, no way!” Peter’s face grows forlorn, affronted, boyish and utterly insulted in a way Tony has never seen before up till now. He smiles sweetly beyond his control, taking it in, really gaining an insight as to how Peter must’ve been as a kid.</p><p>“’Fraid so, Squirt, you are in this story, anyway.”</p><p>Peter pouts, letting gravity pull his head to one of his shoulders as he loses thread of the conversation and blinks lazily across at the billionaire.</p><p>“Hey, Tony?”</p><p>Storing the joy he’d analyse later at hearing the kid call him by his given name and not his formal address, Stark nods affectionately.</p><p>“Yeah,”</p><p>“Changed m’mind. Think ’m hungry. You haven’t got any grapes or anything like that I can just pick at like a normal sick person?”</p><p>Tony grins and turns again to head out of the bedroom. “Nope!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Part Six</b>
</p><p>When he returns with breakfast, Peter has his eyes closed, he’s sitting atop the covers this time, one hand resting on his stomach. His lashes flutter as Tony sets a tray onto the bed.</p><p>“Smells good,” he murmurs.</p><p>Tony’s glad and reassured to see that the kid appears a little more with it now, his color and pallor having fully returned, the swelling from the sting all but gone entirely, like it never happened. </p><p>“Eggs and bacon. S’all we got right now, I’m afraid.”</p><p>Peter eats slowly, but seems to be getting it down okay. Eventually, he sighs, watching Tony from the corner of eye and acutely aware he was being watched the entire time, too.</p><p>“Were you ok, last night?” He asks the older man, tone going for casual.</p><p>Entirely thrown and not expecting this kind of question, Tony beams at the kid. “What do you mean?” And avoids Peter’s knowing glance.</p><p>“I mean, Mister Stark, no offence, but I’d have been losing my mind if that was happening to you. It’s starting to come back to me now… I don’t even know what happened. I didn’t think I even had any allergies. Kinda ironic I’d be allergic to <i>that</i>.”</p><p>“Could see your body fighting it though, and it did in the end, could’a been a lot worse.” Stark supposed with a light shrug.</p><p>“I guess.”</p><p>Reeling off of Peter’s unenthusiastic agreement, a suggestion once again came to him. “We—and by <i>we</i> I mean <i>I</i>—can run some tests if you want when I get back at the facility? If that’ll make you feel better? Isolate the struggle your genetics and DNA had and discovered, and see if I can gain a better understanding of the structure to build and rectify it to a more stable formula? Or at least a cure if it happens again. Like, you’re very own biochemically altered EpiPen.”</p><p>Peter opened his mouth to reply, but Tony shake his head and corrects himself immediately afterward, barely catching his breath.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right. Better get Banner to take a look, he knows bio-organics better than anyone.”</p><p>Still, Peter doesn’t speak. A babbling Tony Stark meant he must’ve been more freaked then he’s letting on. Either that or he’s really uncomfortable with what happened, Peter figures. He drops his dark eyes to the now near empty tray in front of him.</p><p>Tony reaches out to offer comfort but hesitates last second, arm hovering in the air before dropping to his own knee.</p><p>“We all have our weaknesses, kid, don’t sweat it too much.”</p><p>“Speaking of weaknesses,” Peter finally murmured, serious and stubborn as he now looks Tony determinedly in the eye. “Are you ok?”</p><p>“Sure.” Stark automates immediately, smile bright and feigning, years of self-protective mechanisation slipping into place.</p><p>Sighing deep and troubled, and utterly drained, Peter persists, not letting up. “For real, Tony?”</p><p>After another pause, Stark acknowledges the caring and openly vulnerable look in the teenager’s eyes. <i>Damn this kid</i>, he curses internally. <i>Pulling on heartstrings I thought were long ago plucked and broken. How does he do this to me</i>. He felt the fight in him leave as quickly as his next exhale, instead being loaded with a not so foreign paternal emotion he’s quickly associating that comes with the young man before him.</p><p>He drops all pretences of faking ignorance and lays a comforting hand on the kid’s forearm, his voice sincere when he breathes out. “Yeah, kid. I think I am, now.”</p><p>Peter’s frown dissipates and morphs instead into a broad smile. He opens his mouth to respond but is shocked to hear the door to the bedroom cabin open succinctly and abruptly.</p><p>“What’s going on here?”</p><p>Pepper Potts stands in the doorway, a look of baffled shock and a hint of amusement underneath as she takes in her betrothed sitting on the edge of their bed, arm outstretched in a gesture of comfort, gripping the kid that lays atop the covers in only his underwear, drip in his arm and a food tray pushed to the side.</p><p>Dropping her handbag to the floor, groceries and her heels in a trail behind her in the hallway, Pepper smirks and folds her arms neatly over her chest, leaning against the door jam and awaiting an explanation.</p><p>For once, Tony struggles, thinking about where to even begin to explain, struck still and frozen, eyes moving back and forth between his young ward and his gorgeous fiancé. <i>At least she doesn’t look pissed off.</i></p><p>Peter breaks the silence, smiling hesitantly and shrugging, bashfully going for broke with humor. “Let’s face it, this probably isn’t the worst thing you’ve caught him doing…”</p>
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